


The Cowardly Lion

by SweetSorcery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst and Humor, First Kiss, First Time, Gloves, M/M, Oral Sex, Slash, Snowballing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-13
Updated: 2011-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius may be a spy, but that doesn't mean he's forthcoming with information. And Harry has enough trouble with logical deduction without those blasted butterflies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cowardly Lion

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All canon referred to within belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Warner Bros. Inc., and possibly others. Non-canon bits were created for non-profit, non-infringement entertainment.
> 
> Archiving: Absolutely nowhere please, not even in translated form.
> 
> Author's Notes: This was written in December 2007 for a Kinks Challenge and was meant to be the beginning of a series. I'm contemplating continuing it at some point.  
> (Please note that I may lock my explicit stories to registered users only, once they've been up for a bit.)

It was ironic in the extreme, Harry thought, that a plan with which no one but Lucius Malfoy and himself had been happy at the outset should come back to bite him in the arse. And it, or Harry at any rate, would do the same to Malfoy’s derrière, if only the man was amenable to the idea.

Harry chuckled darkly into his Earl Grey, then pulled a face at the perfumed aroma, making a mental note to avoid the brew in future. After a cursory glance across the Palm Court – the pure-blooded snob would agree to nothing less ostentatious in muggle London than the tea room at The Ritz – Harry leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He considered the ample selection of treats parked on a lavish double-platter in front of him yet again; after all, he might as well enjoy himself while waiting, and maybe another piece of cake would appease the pathetic butterflies in his stomach.

There was little point in watching for his contact’s arrival, as Harry didn’t know what he was looking for. He might be perfectly content to be himself in the muggle world - more or less, as the blasted hotel had a dress code for its public areas - but Lucius Malfoy liked to turn each of their little get-togethers into his personal costume ball. And while Harry struggled with jacket and tie, Malfoy seemed to delight in appearing in an entirely different glamour each time; his reasoning was that he had wealthy contacts in the muggle world and thus couldn't risk being recognised. Personally, Harry thought Malfoy simply enjoyed making a spectacle of himself.

"I wouldn’t recommend the Dundee cake; it’s sickeningly sweet."

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when the familiar voice breathed into his ear. "Mal--" A gentle poke in his side silenced him momentarily, then he hissed, "How long have you been here?"

Lucius Malfoy chuckled, which, as he chose to do it against the back of Harry’s neck, did some interesting things to Harry’s libido. "Long enough to have become somewhat awed at your appetite."

Harry sighed, annoyed at Malfoy’s propensity for flirting and double entendre without ever doing anything more about it. So when the man suggested, "We’d best go up to my room," Harry knew without doubt that it was not an invitation to an afternoon’s romp on silk sheets. All thoughts of silk sheets fled from Harry’s mind, however, when he turned to actually look at Malfoy and saw him raise a gnarled, ancient hand to get a waiter's attention. He was ashamed to hear himself yelp.

Malfoy smirked. "Oh, do calm down, it’s only a glamour."

A waiter appeared in a flash, and Malfoy requested the hefty bill for himself as well as Harry; it amused them both that it would end up at the ministry's expense department, where it would give some pasty-faced desk jockey indigestion for a week. While Malfoy struggled with the muggle money, Harry stared at him as if he had three heads. Once the waiter had left, he asked, "Is there any particular reason you’ve chosen to look like Merlin himself today?"

Even in the ancient face, an aristocratic brow managed to defy gravity. "Embarrassed to be seen with an old man?"

Harry stood up. "Seen - no. Dragged off to his bedroom - yes, a bit." He made his way towards the exit - slowly, so Malfoy wouldn’t have to perform an unlikely sprint to keep up.

The man followed him at a sedate pace. "I assure you, young man, my intentions are entirely honourable."

"More’s the pity," Harry muttered under his breath just as he turned to ascend the wide staircase in the foyer.

"What was that?" Malfoy enquired pleasantly, leaning heavily on his cane and puffing a little for added realism.

"Nothing." Harry sighed. He considered the stairs for a moment, then made for the lifts instead. "Let’s go, grandpapa." He didn't see the smirk on his companion's face.

It was amusing, Lucius Malfoy thought, that Potter should assume him deaf simply on account of a glamour.

* * *

Lucius had offered his services as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix some weeks earlier. Of course, no one had trusted his motives, and he had been subjected to several hours of questioning under Veritaserum. Surprisingly, he had passed the test with flying colours. Albus Dumbledore and the two aurors who had been present were sworn to secrecy about Malfoy's motives, but all three had looked more than a little taken aback after leaving the interview room with a smiling Malfoy in tow. Lucius had requested that Harry and none other would be his sole contact. And while the entire Order had been wholeheartedly against it, fearing some devious ploy, Dumbledore himself had assured them that Harry had nothing whatsoever to fear from Malfoy. The two aurors had nodded even whilst being unable to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry had agreed to the condition, Gryffindor curiosity - not to mention the chance to finally do something useful for the Order, now he was considered an adult in the wizarding world - getting the better of him. He might have given it more thought had he known that Lucius Malfoy - spy, was a very different animal from Lucius Malfoy - death eater. Or perhaps it was Harry himself who had changed? For one thing, he must have grown up quite suddenly, or he would not have been blind-sided by two rather shocking discoveries at once. For one thing: he was evidently gay. And for another: being in close quarters with Lucius Malfoy left him short of breath and feeling as if all his nerves had been pulled out into the open - like cables from a piece of machinery on a workman's table.

All too soon, they reached the room Lucius had taken. For safety reasons, he booked a different one each time to go with his changing glamours. While he disarmed the spells and repelling wards he had placed on the door to strengthen the primitive muggle lock, Harry looked up and down the corridor. He was nervous, and his stomach was in knots. The hush-hush of it all didn't bother him one bit. But the thought that in another moment, the door would close behind them, and he would be alone with Lucius Malfoy for up to an hour, was a frightening one. So it really made no sense at all that he should be hoping Malfoy had at least two hours worth of intelligence to share, did it?

"I trust you're not waiting for me to carry you over the threshold, Mr Potter?" Lucius was standing inside the lavishly furnished room, waiting patiently and sounding far too amused. "It would ruin my cover, you see."

Harry blushed and quickly stepped inside, looking back and flinching just a little when the door fell shut behind him at a wave of Malfoy's hand. He couldn't help the sharp intake of breath when he turned to face his contact once more and watch the age glamour sliding off him like a mask. Somehow, Harry thought with a pounding heart, it was worse each time a glamour was removed; none of them, not even the handsome ones, ever came close to the real thing.

* * *

It did indeed take roughly an hour to go over Voldemort's latest plan of attack and decide on the best course of action. Curiously enough, Lucius and Harry always agreed entirely on the most effective way to handle the situation, even if the Order rarely went along with their ideas in the end. They considered Harry too young to know what he was talking about and Lucius too devious to be trusted. All in all, it was surprising anyone paid either of them any mind at all.

"Twelve aurors should be plenty," Harry said, fidgeting a little. Somewhat bitterly, he added, "Not that anyone will give a toss what I think."

"Alas no, but for what it's worth, I agree with you." Lucius Malfoy frowned at him. "Mr Potter, you continue to wriggle. You are sitting on an exceptional Chesterfield sofa, even if the pattern is a tad garish; unless your backside is more sensitive than that of the Princess on the Pea, I don't see how you could possibly be uncomfortable."

Harry gaped at him. "What on earth do you know about muggle fairy tales?"

"Muggle?" Lucius Malfoy smirked. "You think Hans Christian Andersen was a _muggle_?"

"Erm... he wasn't?" When Malfoy shook his head, Harry admitted, "I haven't read him much."

"A situation you should rectify; he was a master storyteller."

"I'll keep it in mind." Harry cleared his throat. "Are we done for today?"

Lucius Malfoy leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs elegantly. He was once again wearing his customary gloves and a deep red jacket to match the glass of wine he was swirling. After assessing Harry for a very long moment, he said, "You haven't finished your ginger ale. In a hurry to get away from me?"

"Not really," Harry muttered, then cursed himself. He should have made up some appointment or other, but Malfoy hitting the nail quite so squarely on the head must have dislodged his reasoning ability. Of course, the way the late afternoon sun through the park-side window caught in the long blond hair wasn't helping.

"Are you still afraid of me?

Harry blinked. "What are you talking about? I've never been afraid of you," he protested.

Lucius Malfoy smiled and sipped some wine before he spoke again. "I have offended your Gryffindor pride. Do forgive me."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, feeling quite annoyed. Even so, he wondered how he could use the man's misconception to get away.

Meanwhile, Malfoy wasn't done teasing him. "Not even when you were merely twelve?" He leaned forward and set down his glass to look at Harry with sincere curiosity. "Be honest. There's hardly any shame in a child being scared of a big, bad death eater."

"No. I wasn't." Harry's voice was firm. He meant it. He hadn't been afraid of Malfoy then, and he wasn't now, either. Though Harry Potter was worrying him a great deal. Not that he would admit that, not even if Malfoy chose to jump to the wrong conclusion regarding Harry's edginess in his presence.

Lucius Malfoy rose so suddenly that Harry flinched. He circled the low coffee table between them until he stood in front of him. "In that case, perhaps you are merely... nervous?"

Harry stared up at him, pinned by grey eyes which held either challenge or mockery. Not knowing which it was, Harry had no idea how to respond to it. Of course, he could childishly keep insisting he was not afraid, not at all, but he managed to hold his tongue, if only just. He stood up to be on more equal footing with Malfoy, but realised his mistake when that put them nose to neck. Was there really any need for the man to smell so good?

Malfoy's lips curved into a lazy smile. His voice was low and soft when he said, "Why don't you do what you've been wanting to do for weeks now?"

Harry felt hot right down to his toes, the deep, breathy suggestion sending his heart rate through the roof. "I don't know what you're talking about," he croaked. The full lips were so invitingly close that the room seemed to shrink down to the square yard they were occupying.

"I think you do, Mr Potter."

Harry shook his head frantically, but then Lucius Malfoy tilted his face a little to the side, and he lost himself in those eyes. And before he could think better of it, he rose to his toes and flung himself forward - his arms around Malfoy's neck to make up for his lack of height - and crushed their mouths together. Hands gripped his waist, and Harry half expected to be repelled across the room and mocked for his presumption. But instead, the hands pulled him close, fingers digging possessively into his flesh through his thin shirt. By contrast, the mouth against his was so wonderfully, impossibly soft that it made Harry sigh into the kiss. The moment his lips parted, Lucius' tongue began to slide against his own. Harry's bones seemed to melt then, and he was grateful for the tight grip on his middle, even if those fingers were pressing into his flesh almost too hard. Of course, the thought of pain reminded him that he was kissing a death eater, and he wrenched his mouth away, his lips throbbing from the sudden lack of pressure. What had he been thinking?

Lucius Malfoy released him immediately, a storm brewing in his eyes. Harry didn't know if it was anger or desire, and he suddenly didn't dare find out. Without a word, he turned and made for the door as quickly as he could without running. It seemed miles away, and he cursed his weak knees and pounding heart.

"You _are_ scared." The voice was hardly Lucius Malfoy's at all; there was no trace of mockery in it.

Harry stopped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He was balling his hands into fists at his sides and did not dare turn around. After one single, bruising, wonderful kiss, he was so aware of Lucius Malfoy's aura that he could feel him closing in as silently as a cat.

"You know what I was," Malfoy said softly, standing right behind Harry. "What I still am to be of use to the Order. You know what I do, or at least have a fair idea."

Harry did not respond. He just stood very still, waiting for Malfoy to say something he could deny, vehemently, so he would not have to feel a coward for leaving.

"You know I was questioned under Veritaserum, but you don't know my reasons. For anything." He stood so close now, just a little to the side, and his breath was warm on Harry's cheek.

"Why don’t you tell me?" Harry didn't like how pleading he sounded.

"Not yet." A hand settled on Harry's neck - a gloved hand in smooth, expensive leather as warm as bare skin.

Shivering, Harry tried to ask why he couldn't be told, but he was afraid of how breathy his voice might sound. He wished Lucius would not touch him, but at the same time, there was nothing he wanted more.

"You desire me," Lucius purred, the damning words stirring the hair curling around Harry's right ear; a soft hiss escaped Harry's lips. "I know you do." Warm lips caressed the soft skin behind his ear. "And yet..." Harry's eyes flew open, and he didn't even know they'd been shut all this time. "You cannot trust me. You _won't_ trust me."

"You can't really expect me to?"

The mouth, the tantalising warmth at this side, the overwhelming presence - they were all gone in an instant, and Harry couldn't believe how bereft he felt. How much as if he'd said something unforgivable. He looked over his shoulder at Lucius Malfoy, and his eyes widened.

Lucius looked dejected. He was smiling, but the smile didn't reach his eyes - it was like one of his glamours, and he said, very quietly, "Good day, Mr Potter."

Harry's stomach plummeted. He was confused, and he didn't know why Malfoy seemed _disappointed_ in him. He frowned. "What?"

"You were leaving, were you not?"

Now Harry got angry. His eyes flashed when he stalked towards Malfoy. "What game are you trying to play with me? What do you want?" he demanded.

Malfoy was still smiling that humourless smile. "You would hardly believe me if I told you." When Harry snorted, he shrugged. "And how could you, after all?" He walked away across the room to sit down again, as if Harry had already left.

"You're sulking, or... something, because I don't trust you," Harry stated. It was not a question, but a conclusion he'd just come to.

Malfoy sat back and looked up at Harry seriously. "Or something," he quietly repeated back.

When Harry approached him as if pulled forward by an invisible thread, Malfoy reached out, lightning fast. His long fingers hooked into the waistband of Harry's trousers and tugged him forward to stand between his legs.

It was all Harry could do not to pitch into the man's lap, but as soon as he regained his balance, he was in danger of losing it again. "What... what are you doing?" he croaked, though it was abundantly clear that Lucius was unbuttoning his trousers and sliding down the zip, and just like that, with the brush of a few knuckles over his clothed cock and the sheer idea of it, Harry was even harder than during that mind-blowing kiss earlier.

Malfoy looked up at him. "Feel free to tell me to stop."

He should, of course, Harry knew that. But just as he was about to open his mouth, Malfoy opened his trousers, and the capacity for speech left Harry at once. He couldn't even find it in himself to be embarrassed at the bulge straining forward in the gap made by his open zip, and when Malfoy leaned in to press his cheek against it, he actually whimpered.

Lucius lifted his eyes to meet Harry's, anchoring him while Harry felt the ground shift with the slow caress of a gloved hand, a sensuous stroke up the side of his cock in distended black cotton, a thumb slipping under the elastic edge, leather rasping softly against crisp curls. And then Lucius' fingertips reached the waistband and hooked behind it while his tongue flicked over his smirking lips. His voice was husky when he said, "If you're leaving, Mr Potter, now would be the moment."

Harry might have laughed, if he'd had the capacity to even breathe. A slow shake of his head would have to do.

"No?" Lucius asked. "Well, then..." One efficient flick of the wrist, and Harry's cock was freed, bobbing in front of Lucius' face. He ignored it, taking his time peeling Harry's underwear down far enough to release his balls from captivity as well.

Harry was biting his lower lip, hot and embarrassed and worried he might just come all over that gorgeous, infuriatingly calm face if Malfoy didn't open his mouth soon. "Please," he murmured, half hoping he wouldn't be heard because he hated to beg.

"Yes, of course," Lucius said generously, at last leaving Harry's clothes alone in favour of curling one gloved hand around the underside of his cock. He lifted it to his lips, parted them, and let it slide in slowly.

Harry could only watch breathlessly as one of his favourite daydreams came true. When Malfoy's eyes closed slowly, accompanied by a purr, it was a struggle not to come on the spot.

As if he was well aware of it, Malfoy's fingers curled tightly around the base of Harry's cock, preventing any such embarrassment even while he saw to it that Harry was reduced to an incoherent, whimpering mess. He took great delight in letting the head slip from his mouth more often than not, bumping his nose against the underside, flicking his tongue across it in rapid succession, or wriggling his tongue tip into the slit, before sucking nearly the whole length back into his mouth at once.

"God... god!" Harry groaned, his eyes closed; he was swaying so badly that Lucius held his hip to prevent him from losing his balance. He was desperate to have that cruel hand at the base of his cock let go, so he could do the same: let go. Instead, Lucius suddenly, unexpectedly, swallowed him to the root, and Harry cried out helplessly, his fingers digging into Lucius' shoulders.

Slowly, Lucius drew back a little, then applied a few rapid strokes up and down Harry's length while suckling the red, dripping head of his cock.

"Please, I need to-- Ungh!" And then he did. With a deep groan, Harry came like a fountain.

Lucius swallowed once, then let his mouth fill. Harry was still coming when Lucius released his spurting cock, mindless that it splattered on his cheek and fine jacket, and tugged Harry down by his tie. Harry fell to his knees like a marionette cut loose, weak and drained in every way, and did not protest when Lucius cupped his face and used his thumbs to press down his chin and force open his mouth. Lucius moved in until his mouth was a mere inch above Harry's, then let the collected seed drip slowly into Harry's mouth from the tip of his tongue. And that might have caused Harry to come again, had he been capable. As it was, he merely moaned, swallowed until the trickle stopped, and then gazed up at Lucius with glazed eyes.

"I never take more than I am willing to return," Lucius said huskily, voice roughened from the exertion of his mouth and throat. "I never say what I don't mean, or ask for what I don't truly want. Even without Veritaserum. Once you understand that about me, you may begin to trust me. Then, and only then..."

"Yes?" Harry whispered.

Lucius kissed him very softly, then rose and pulled Harry up to stand on unsteady legs. "Only then will I take more from you, Harry." He smiled when Harry shivered and blinked at him dazedly. "I look forward to our next meeting."

And before Harry's mind had even begun to clear, Lucius was gone, the door to the ensuite clicking shut behind him.

 

The End?


End file.
